Las Alpujarras There’s a man in one of the high mountain villages who lives with a cow and spends much of his time studying the cloud formations. By all accounts he can predict the weather for months, even years ahead with some accuracy, a skill passed down from father to son. For several months now,
Ignore an atoning little flurry at the death, England’s cricket winter has been a ghastly shambles. Embarked upon with such overweening bumptiousness — an arrogance admonished by this corner in the autumn, I might add — the expedition has long been a wrecked write-off all round. The Ashes urn was spinelessly surrendered — against admittedly a
Q. At a recent lunch in an hotel to celebrate my parents’ wedding anniversary, my wife and I found ourselves engaged in animated conversation by our respective neighbours on all manner of interesting topics. However, in their enthusiasm they seemed totally oblivious to our need to deal with our well-behaved but still very young children
